


Soldier Poet King

by jack-of-alltrades (bumblebeeJacky)



Series: just another fantasy au [1]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Immortality, King I Am Wildcat, Light Angst, M/M, Poet Evan Fong, Soldier H2ODelirious, and idk what fandoms to use, i'll add more later, teen and up for safety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 14:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeeJacky/pseuds/jack-of-alltrades
Summary: He was told story after story of the famed heroes that came before them, heroes that died long ago with a vow to come back when they were needed - when that villain they defeated rose up once more where he was unwelcome.





	1. Soldier

_ _

_ There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword _ , the prophecies had predicted as long as he could remember. He’d been told over and over that a special group of heroes would one day come and save their little kingdom from the vicious ruler they lived under.

An immortal with an iron fist and no mercy to show the kind, sweet citizens he ruled. Most of the time had them all living in poverty, sharing what little they had among each other and he was often grateful - they were all more of a family than anything, though there was always those few that were more greedy, took more than others and didn’t apologize.

He was raised by his mother and father, took part in raising up his little sister. He grew alongside his best friend, taught to be the opposite of those that hid in the shadows and stole what they needed or wanted.

He was raised to be kind. To help raise the next generation, to share what he had so no one went hungry or was left in the cold as winter struck, to defend those that couldn’t defend themselves, to teach them to do so.

That was how he and his best friend and brother met the son of the baker. He was soft, like them. He took care of those around him despite spending time with some of the other kids deemed thieves with their parents. Jonathan still stepped in the way, standing tall with fists clenched at his sides as Luke helped the other boy up.

No one really won or lost that fight. They all left for their homes bruised and tired, triumphant in their own ways. The son of the baker - Ryan, introduced himself, thanked them so much for his help, helped Luke in tending to Jon’s little bruises as they spoke, stories and easy conversation flowing back and forth as they got to know each other.

Jon was still learning the art of fighting, using any strength and talent he gained for defense. Ryan asked why and found himself thinking back to the prophecies he himself had been told as this Jonathan went on and on about how he had to defend his people, to protect them from their ruthless king and perhaps bring peace one day.

To make his family proud, to fix everything the king had made a mess of.

 

A soldier with a kind smile, bruised knuckles for defending those he loves and a protectiveness for those he grew with.

 

_ He will tear your city down, o lei, o lai, o lord _ .


	2. Poet

__

_There will come a poet whose weapon is his word_ , his father would tell him, delight in his eyes as he thought of better days, hoped and prayed to raise his son up into a world better than the one he lived in. He was told story after story of the famed heroes that came before them, heroes that died long ago with a vow to come back when they were needed - when that villain they defeated rose up once more where he was unwelcome.

And as that villain rose up to steal the throne, they all hoped and prayed those heroes would come back and save them from dark times like they did before, like they were promised before the heroes faded away with time, passing on to a new life each.

He was raised to be kind, to listen to others but to not be pushed around - to be brave and listen to himself as much as those around him. He was raised to be quick and crafty, to be quick on his feet with a quick thinking mind and a clever tongue.

As he grew, he was called a _thief_ like those he grew up with. He was no _thief_. He and his family didn't steal or get greedy. They shared what they had too, took what they could get. Ryan was one of his close friends he grew up with, someone who saw past where he lived and who he grew up with, getting to know the real him.

Ryan, who spent time to learn his poetic words, his fighter’s heart and his callused hands from practicing archery alongside one of his _four_ fathers. Ryan was surprised by this, but upon meeting the four, they made sense together. A kind, motherless boy abandoned to live on his own, taken in by four kind men determined to give him the life he deserves.

Ryan swore to keep it a secret as Evan cupped fingers around his lips, whispered of his father Jack teaching him the archery he knew with a little grin. Brock teaches him recipes, Brian teaches him languages and tells him stories, Mark teaches him the poetry he loves so much. Evan couldn't imagine life without his four fathers.

 

A poet with a tongue quick as his fingers and a smile reflecting the kindness and love he held for those around him.

 

_He will slay you with his tongue, o lei, o lai, o lord._


	3. King

__

_There will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn_ , he was told so, so often by the others around him. Maids and servants incredibly certain the prince would one day return and take the throne back. Sworn to secrecy, sworn to never refer to Tyler as the prince he was again. He deserves no respect, he’s no better than a lowly peasant living in the castle solely to work in the kitchens or care for the many animals owned by king Craig.

It took a while to get used to calling him king only, an ache in his chest as he thought of his father and mother, locked away in the dungeons until the day someone overthrew Craig and lead the kingdom with a gentle hand and the mercy the kind people deserved.

He was raised to be understanding, that it was okay to have calluses so long as they were not formed by the handle of a sword in attempts to harm those around him. It’s okay to defend those that need defending, to protect those that did not deserve such harm, and to have a soft heart for those he loves, but he must think with both his _head_ and his _heart_.

He was told time and time again, he’d make a wonderful king one day. He’d take care of his citizens as well as his mother and father did, until a very angry, very jealous immortal showed up at the gates, quick to tear down anyone in his way to take the power and the throne from him. He could only hope his people would be okay as the king they adored so much sat in the castle cleaning dishes and sweeping floors and feeding animals under the order of the king.

The only one he truly called friend was another servant named Anthony. A tall chef with a bright smile and a kind heart regardless of the words and insults and backlash thrown his way for his bubbly laughter and big grins. He remained the light on dark days for Tyler, some hope and encouragement that perhaps he could fix everything one day. He knew he could.

And if Anthony ever spotted that creature living in his room in the castle, black spots on white scales, hushed by Tyler when the creature made any loud noises, especially as the former prince snuck food for the little one, he never said a word of it.

When he’d clearly seen them and continued on his way with a smile, he told the panicked, worried boy with that same sweet smile that he didn’t see _anything_ , and he _definitely_ wouldn’t know if Tyler snuck just a little bit more food for the little dragon.

 

A king with soft hands itching to hold a sword and defend his people, a smile to soothe worries and a desire to fix his kingdom.

 

_Smeared with oil like david’s boy, o lei, o lai, o lord._


End file.
